Mirrors
by BigBoss3
Summary: Seeking a quiet existence on the outskirts of Seattle, after barely escaping death, Jerry Dandridge finds himself reflecting on his immortal life, and becomes lost in the hurricane of emotions that a new neighbor creates deep within him.
1. Alone

_Finally, I'm writing a Fright Night fic. To be clear, this follows the events of the ORIGINAL film (part one). So I'm going off of Chris Sarandon's looks; his thick, dark hair and tan complexion and big lips and long legs and chocolate eyes yeeeeeeup. Charlie and Amy will not be making an appearance but Peter Vincent might. R&R, my friends._

* * *

Jerry Dandridge grabbed the last crate out of the truck; it easily weighed over a hundred pounds, but required little effort on his part. He was _very _strong.

Under the dim light of the street lamps, Jerry closed the tailgate with his boot and headed towards the front door of an old, nearly decrepit house.

_Mansion would be more fitting. _Sixteen rooms, not including the full-size basement and cavernous attic. Through some connections and a little bloodletting, he had purchased his new home for an amazing price. It was nestled in a quiet neighborhood, made up of similar, though better kept houses.

_The outskirts of Seattle. He had always wanted to live in the shadows of mountains. _

The view from his front porch was beautiful; Jerry's preternatural eyes could see the silhouette of Mount Rainier, the surrounding sea of light that was downtown Seattle, and the black sky mirroring it all.

_How would it all look in the light of dawn?_

Jerry shook his head as he opened the door and entered hurriedly. His thoughts had become so unnaturally melancholy, too human. The heavy oak entrance slammed shut behind him.

He stood there for a moment, eyes moving over the large staircase, the dusty hardwood floors, the elaborate molding. He noticed something.

_The silence. The complete absence of noise. _

He was truly alone then.

* * *

A young girl was crying into her pillow in the house next to Jerry's. As he lamented the loss of his former life, she did the same.


	2. Pale

"...Yeah, and none of us have seen him yet. Well, I assume he's a bachelor..."

Josephine opened her eyes slowly, all hope of falling back to sleep lost. Her mother was on the phone, probably with a relative.

A relative that had called about her. Maybe even to ask _how long she had left;_ it sounded like her mother had deftly transitioned into small talk, away from anything that had to do with her daughter.

As if moving in slow motion, Josephine slipped out from under her comforter and sighed.

_Every afternoon, waking up exhausted..._the girl shook her head, fought the tears. Her curly mane fell in front of her wide, shining eyes. Sunlight bathed the exposed skin of her arms, accentuating just how pale she was.

"No, she's still i-in bed..."

_Why couldn't her mother talk downstairs? _

She stood up and pushed her hair back, taking in a deep breath, though it hurt to do so. As she made her way to the bathroom, Josephine unconsciously veered toward her bedroom window and pulled the lacy curtains back just a bit.

The house next to her looked uninhabited, the grass unkempt and windows boarded up, but there was a large moving truck parked in the street. It had been there for the past few days, but no sign of the new tenant.

The sounds of labor had kept her up at night. Doors opening and closing, boxes thudding around. It was strange, to say the least.

Josephine left the window to begin getting ready for the day, but the house and her mysterious new neighbor didn't leave her thoughts.


	3. Sight

The vampire had yet to hang up all of his beloved clocks, but the telltale chimes of only a few were enough to wake him.

He had been sleeping lightly, and dreaming frequently.

_Nightmares, rather. _Vivid memories of his death, and of his return to 'life'. The faces of those who had destroyed what he had been trying to create haunted him, laughed at him.

Jerry Dandridge, thousand-year old vampire, reduced to ashes by a teenage boy and a mediocre actor. His anger would have been untamed, his revenge swift, but the ordeal had left him tired. Tired and..._wiser._

After his body had found itself again, after waking up naked and lethargic on the basement floor, Jerry chose to simply leave, rather than go after his attackers. It hadn't been easy, especially without Billy to take care of matters during the day.

_He had been his only friend. _

Already irritable, Jerry opened the coffin from the velvety interior and hopped out. His long legs carried him gracefully up the cellar stairs, through the foyer and out the front door.

* * *

Josephine shifted underneath the bedclothes. Her eyes were open. They ached, just as everything else ached. All she wanted was _sleep. _It was her only reprieve from the pain.

She felt the inevitable tears begin. She cried nearly every night. As quickly as she could, Josephine got out of bed; she took the top blanket with her, wrapping it around herself as she flitted through her door silently, heading for fresh air.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Jerry was hesitant to go after blood, to quench his terrible thirst. He couldn't will his feet to leave his rotting porch. He stood, stoic and unmoving, disgusted and confused and _hungry. _A frigid breeze blew past him, ruffling his hair, molding the thin material of his slacks against his legs.

Jerry sat down on a step and folded his hands.

_What is wrong with me-_

The creak of a door immediately snatched his attention, and his head quickly turned towards the house on the right. He watched a small figure walk out cautiously, hands closing the door delicately. The orange glow of the nearest street lamp didn't cast any light in that direction, but Jerry could easily make out the _girl.  
_

She was short, he noted; petite. Her oversized flannel shirt covered her until just above the knees. Her legs glowed, unnaturally white. She took a few steps forward, her gaze not quite focusing on anything.

_Chocolate eyes, _he thought. They looked tired. The girl's face was incredibly pretty, and incredibly sad. Jerry stared at her mouth, and the way she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.

A sea of dark, unruly hair sat upon her shoulders and fell down her back. His eyes traveled lower, but the rest of her form was then hidden by the blanket that she hugged around herself.

Jerry kept himself completely still, didn't make a sound, but a vampire's stare could be compared to a gentle caress. The longer their eyes hold someone, the more one can feel it. The girl shifted, and for a terrifying moment, Jerry feared she would spot him.

Instead, she sniffled and turned to her front door, disappearing inside.

For whatever reason, Jerry felt..._disappointed. _


	4. Names

_Alright, I feel like this chapter is rocky, so please let me know if I should make any changes. Switching tenses has always been a challenge for me, or at least, doing it smoothly. thank you!_

* * *

"Leukemia."

The fair-haired woman who sat across from Jerry sighed and looked down at her cup of coffee. Her gaze was tired; dark crescents of exhaustion nearly reached her cheekbones. She had made eye contact maybe twice since introductions.

The remnants of daylight had just slipped beneath the horizon when Jerry had stepped outside nearly an hour before.

For the past four nights, the vampire had Dwelled in the shadows of the neighborhood, hoping that the girl would come out. All he wanted, _needed, _was a glimpse.

_He needed to see her again._

It was ridiculous, confusing. His waking hours were consumed by memories of her face, her hair, her pale skin.

He also had yet to enjoy his first meal.

Anticipation had shot through Jerry when the front door opened. His head snapped to the left.

_It hadn't been her. _The woman was thin, maybe too much so, and much older than the girl. Her clothes were plain and baggy, hair tied back carelessly. He watched the women sit down on her front step slowly. Before he could stop himself, the Vampire had made his way to the neighboring porch.

"Beautiful night." The woman had nearly jumped clean off the stairs with fright. Her cry of surprise had faded into a delicate, delightful laugh, and introductions soon followed.

Her name was Elaine Marsh; her husband, Oliver. Only after she had asked him in for coffee, an invitation which he readily accepted, did she mention her daughter. Elaine moved about the dim, clean kitchen nervously.

"We've lived here for nearly three years now. It took a while to find a nice, quiet place. It's perfect for my husband's work, and it does Josephine a lot of good."

"Josephine?" Jerry inquired as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. His eyes were focused, dark and shining.

"My daughter."

* * *

Josephine made herself comfortable at the top of the oak staircase. She had never been particularly nosey, never prone to snooping, but her mother never had company. She didn't recognize the deep, enigmatic voice, couldn't even suppose who it belonged to.

"...And when she found out the treatment wasn't working, sh-she decided to stop altogether and come home."

The girl felt her stomach go cold, her heartbeat quicken._ Of course. Of course they were talking about her._

Making sure to keep her tears quiet, Josephine listened on.

"I'm sorry, Jerry," Her mother said, sniffling, "I-I invite you in, only to talk about sad, hopeless things."

_Hopeless._

"Nothing is hopeless," The man, _Jerry_, said quietly. Chills traveled down her arms and legs, a sensation as alarming as it was pleasant.

Her mother stirred her coffee, the small metal spoon clinking against the porcelain. It was a habit of hers.

"Thank you, Jerry. I...I needed to hear that." She was smiling, by the sound of her voice. Josephine didn't want to hear any more. Silently, she stood up and went back to her dim, still room.


	5. Hello

"Josephine? Come down, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Come on downstairs, honey!" Elaine called up the polished oak staircase. She turned to Jerry, her fair hair shining in the dim overhead light.

"I'm going to go start dinner, Jerry, if you'd like to stay?" She smiled hopefully.

"Thank you, yes," Replied the vampire. He figured it wasn't hard to rearrange some food on a plate, making it look as though he took a few bites.

"Great, you go on and make yourself at home. Josephine should be right down." With that, Elaine headed towards the kitchen.

Jerry looked up at the stairs; he could hear soft, hesitant footsteps.

_Finally, finally..._

His stance was calm; back against the wall, arms crossed. The footsteps became louder, almost deafening to the focused attention of a vampire. He didn't see her coming down the stairs, turning to look out a window. He wanted her to speak first, to hear her voice.

Her feet came to a halt, and he waited for the inevitable _hello,_ but it never came.

The vampire looked over to the staircase.

"Hello, Josephine."


	6. Smile

Josephine didn't know surprise or excitement anymore; those feelings died along with half of her body. The butterflies were gone, her heart never pleasantly missed a beat. She was hollow.

The stranger, whom she could only describe as beautiful, rekindled those feelings with two words.

_"Hello, Josephine"..._

She stared at him, hesitant and unsure of what to say, momentarily forgetting that a greeting should be reciprocated with a greeting.

"H-hello."

His eyes were so dark, fiery. She feared such a gaze might burn through her, revealing her deepest heart. He smiled a little, and for a quick second, Josephine thought she saw a similar nervousness. Then it was gone.

_As if he has a reason to be nervous._

"I'm Jerry, I just moved in next door," He explained, voice level and deep. Josephine felt goosebumps travel down her arms.

_He was the one who she heard talking to Mother..._

"Oh. Nice to meet you." She spoke softly, eyes wide and shining. He then held out his hand. The girl slowly reached out. It was only a handshake, _just a handshake, _but his skin was like hot metal, his fingers powerful as they wrapped around hers. She looked up, and the corners of her mouth curled a little.

"Nice to meet you, too."


	7. Conversations

The three of them sat down at the dining table, and Elaine began explaining the morbid yet fascinating history behind the old piece of furniture.

"Back when my husband was in the antiquity trade, he came across a young Jewish man trying to sell this table." She took a sip of her wine and continued. "It had belonged to his great-grandfather, a university professor who had passed it on to his son so that he and his young wife could start their new life and home with proper furniture. Then World War II came about, and the Nazis made their way to his quiet town, in the Polish countryside.

"Everyone was rushed from their homes and spirited away to the closest train station, the man and his wife included, and their homes were ransacked..."

Jerry was listening, quite intently, but his eyes never left Josephine. She sat across from him, moving her white sauce pasta from one side of the plate to the other, and back again. She never looked up.

"...and so the table ended up in the dining room of an SS officer, and was there for three years. When the war ended, the man and his wife were liberated and reunited. He happened upon the heirloom at an auction years later. He did what his father had done, and passed it to his son. Their family name is still carved on the underside; Barash." Elaine reached for the wine bottle, her first two glasses long gone, and refilled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, rattling on about a table. I can't help but tell the story to anyone who walks in this house!" She laughed softly. "When you meet Oliver, you'll understand. He rubs off on you." Jerry looked to Elaine and smiled.

"Can't wait. It's unfortunate that he couldn't join us tonight."

"Yes, he's downtown, meeting with his sponsors and publishers. His first book should be on the shelves in a few weeks," Elaine chirped, taking another sip.

From the corner of his eye, Jerry studied every curve of Josephine's face, and every curl of her long hair.

_Was she going to keep silent all night?_

"Jerry?"

"Yes...?"

"I was asking what you do for a living." The vampire cleared his throat and thought a moment.

"Like your husband, I was a trader of antiquities for a while," He paused a moment; Josephine had finally looked at him, dark eyes standing out brilliantly against her pale skin, "For now, I'm indulging in carpentry."

"Carpentry? Goodness, that's impressive," Josephine's mother exclaimed. "Would either of you like some more pasta?"

"No, thank you," Jerry answered, smiling his best smile, hoping she didn't notice his suspiciously full plate. Josephine simply shook her head.

"In fact, I should head home soon. I do most of my work at night."

"Yes, I hear you sometimes." A tense silence fell as both Jerry and Elaine stared the girl. She looked at him, a defiant expression gracing her soft features.

"I'm sorry, Josephine. I'll try to keep quiet."


	8. Goodnight

As her mother stepped out of the room to call her husband, Josephine began to clear the table; she felt her strange neighbor watching her every move.

"Would you like some help, Josephine?" He purred, rising from his chair. Her breath hitched.

"No-no, that's fine," She replies quickly, gathering the utensils with shaking hands.

_Please don't notice._

"Your mother told me that you were in a prestigious boarding school for years. Was it affiliated with the church?" Josephine paused her work to look at him; leaning against the wall, his clothes draping over him like a renaissance masterpiece.

"Yes, Roman Catholic. I was-"

"-To be a nun?"

"It was an option, yes." She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Jerry said, taking a couple steps towards her.

"No, it's fine."

He came a little closer, within reach. Josephine felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'll see myself out. Tell your mother I said thank you for the dinner." He paused and smiled, a smile that struck fear and wonder in her. "Goodnight, Josephine."

"Goodnight."

He walked past her, and a moment later the front door opened and closed abruptly. Josephine let out a sigh, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. She glanced down at the plate in her hand. It was Jerry's.

The food had not been touched.


	9. Contemplation

It _was_ nearly midnight when Josephine finally decided she should get some rest. The encounter with Jerry Dandridge had left her restless, and much to her shame, she caught herself looking out her bedroom window more than once. Murky light could be seen through the dark curtains of his home. He was awake, same as she.

The girl shook her head and started getting ready for bed; she gently removed her clothes and folded them, glancing at the full length mirror that hung on her wall for only a moment. She saw pale skin, lightly freckled. She saw the feminine curves that she always took care to hide. She saw her face, which appeared thinner every day.

_God help me. Someone...help me. _

Rummaging in her dresser, Josephine produced an oversized short sleeve shirt. She slipped it over her head and plopped down on her bed, legs crossed.

A little nightstand next to her bed was littered with various bottles of medication; pain killers, chemo, stimulants and steroids. Hot patches for sore muscles, band-aids, and bottles of water.

Josephine looked at it all with disdain, and decided that she'd skip the meds tonight.

_There was no point._

* * *

Jerry Dandridge bit into the red apple, his teeth pulling out a monstrous piece of sweet pulp.

He sat on the floor, next to the ornate fireplace that dominated the living area. Wooden crates, a few of them still sealed, lined the perimeter of the room. Packing straw was strewn across the floor, sticking to the furniture. The air was heavy, smelled like oak and cedar and ash.

_So beautiful. She was so beautiful. _

Another bite from the apple. He wondered if vampires were prone to stress eating, or _to stress _for that matter.

Dangerous emotions came to mind when he thought of the sweet little Josephine. Anger, for one; her illness would eventually take her life. It wasn't fair, not to her...

_Not to him._

It left the vampire with a choice, a choice that needed careful contemplation.


	10. Dawn

"So what did you think of Jerry?" Elaine inquired as she busied about the kitchen in her silky little robe; coffee was brewing, eggs sizzling. Josephine sat at the kitchen table, head resting in her hands. It was dawn, the first beams of daylight streaming through the bay window.

She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up so early; sleep had came and went through the hours of the night, never for more than an hour. She tossed and turned and readjusted the pillows until her father's alarm clock reached her ears.

"He was alright," She replied softly, fingers curling the ends of her hair. Her mother turned to her as if to speak, but an urgent voice from the other side of the house stopped her.

"Ellie, have you seen my gray suit?!"

"Laundry room!" Elaine shouted in reply. "It's an important day for your father, I suppose I have to be patient..."

"What's going on?" Josephine asked, interest peaked. Her mother poured a cup of black coffee into her mug and sat down with her.

"The publishers want to pull up the release date for his new book. He's bound for some great things, but it's an important day for _me_ as well," She explained, then blew on her steaming cup. "I got a call from Profella yesterday evening, and they've asked for me to come back. Offered a raise and a team of my own. I'd be able to see a lot more of my designs make it to production. I'm going downtown later to meet with them."

"I'm glad things are going so well for you guys," Josephine said, smiling.

_Yes, she was glad. But equally jealous._

"Josephine, it'd mean I'd be home less. So this is still very up in the air. I haven't said yes." Her blue eyes were serious, concerned. "I don't ever want you to feel alone or abandoned. It can always wait until you're better.

_Better._

She had learned so much in the boarding school, from the sisters. So much about how to love instead of hate, putting others before yourself, turning ill thoughts into good ones. It _shaped_ her, instilled morals. As much as she wanted to tell her mother to _decline_ the job, to stay _home_ with her, to put all her attention towards _her..._

_She couldn't._

"I don't feel alone or abandoned, mom. Please, you should take it. I know how much you miss designing; you're so talented." Elaine smiled, her face lighting up.

"Oh, I love you so much, Josephine." She stood up and went over to the eggs.

"Oh, I've burned them. Dammit..."


	11. Wondering

Eventually, Josephine's mother and father left to begin their _important_ day.

She was alone. The house felt cold, even though the bright Autumn sun was shining through every window. The hours went by slowly; the clock mounted on her bedroom wall seemed to slow down just for her.

With nothing to do and no one to talk to, she simply got into bed and fell into a troubled sleep.

* * *

"Josephine, dear! We're home!" Elaine's voice ripped her from sleep. She opened her eyes and sighed. Her room was dim, and she could hear the cicadas outside singing their evening hymn. Her mother was knocking rapidly at her door.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes, Mom..." She replied softly as she sat up in bed. Elaine came in smiling and sat down on he end of the bed.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"Fine," Josephine said, rubbing her eyes. "How did your meeting go?"

"It was great, we went to a wonderful little cafe and discussed everything. I'll have my own end of the building by next week, and...your father's publishers are releasing the book early! We're going out to celebrate, come with us!" She said earnestly. "We're getting dressed up and everything." Josephine shook her head.

"I'm really not up to it. You guys go have fun." Elaine sighed and nodded.

"Alright, I'll bring you back something good, we won't be out late."

Elaine and Oliver left the house in a cloud of glittering jewelry and fine clothing. She could hear their giddy laughter until they hopped into the Mercedes and sped away. Sitting in the dark, Josephine found herself wondering what Jerry Dandridge was doing.


	12. Thoughts

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_

* * *

Jerry dragged his long fingernails against the velvet interior of the coffin. His face was serious, pensive.

_Just waiting for the clocks to chime. _

In time, they did. He still didn't have them all unpacked, and probably never would. Remnants of an old life, a life that he didn't want to hold onto.

The kill had lost it's seductive charm; no more call girls, no more neon and bass clubs. He came home alone, slept alone, woke up alone.

_It was eating him alive._

But as the sun finally expressed it's farewells in great strokes of color and cloud, a renewed energy filled him. Deep down, he sensed he was in someone's thoughts.

He left his coffin and headed upstairs, then grabbed an apple before leaving the house.

* * *

Josephine wandered around the kitchen, mindlessly opening and closing cupboards, looking and yet not. She didn't have an appetite, but it felt good to pretend. She tried to imagine what her mother was eating; something healthy, maybe smoked salmon or an elaborate salad, topped with fruits and nuts and expensive cheese...

The old, raspy doorbell sounded through the house, echoing in the eerie silence. Josephine gasped, turning towards the hallway.

Slowly, she walked to the front door, and hesitated to open it.

_She knew who it was. Somehow, she knew it was him. _

And then her small hand was on the knob, turning it, pulling the heavy oak towards her.

Jerry Dandridge stood on the porch, thick hair rustling in the evening breeze, his grin catching the light of the street lamps.

"Hello, Josephine," He said softly. She fought the sudden urge to sigh in delight.

_Too strange, too mysterious, but his voice..._

"Jerry. W-what are you doing here?" He laughed; it was a rich sound, reminded her of a cello concerto.

"What an unusual way to greet someone, but don't worry. No offense taken." He winked.

_He winked at her._

Josephine pushed her hair back nervously, suddenly self-conscious; did she look alright? Did she look _sick_?

"I'm sorry, would you like to come in?"

"Yes, Josephine. I'd love to."


	13. Allure

_**May I get steamy? Yes.**_

* * *

"My parents aren't home right now, they went out to celebrate," Josephine said softly, leading Jerry into the living room. She could hear the heavy beating of her own heart in her ears.

"What are they celebrating?"

"Promotions, kind of." She sat down on the old, floral couch, her brown eyes glued to the floor. The strange neighbor sat across from her, on the matching love seat. The room was murky, bathed in a seductive light.

"Why didn't you join them?" He asked, his brow creasing. Josephine sighed, her hands folded in her lap.

"I-I don't know."

* * *

_The girl was angelic._

The vampire felt a tug inside him. It was familiar; his dark side was calling, yearning for him to give in. A combination of hunger and lust began to cloud rational, human thought. His eyes wandered from her porcelain face down to the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, then back up. Up to the line of her swan-like _neck_.

_Don't._

"You seem...uncomfortable around me." The girl looked up, her expression immediately turning defensive.

"I'm not," She replied, shaking her head.

"I know that you're sick." Josephine pursed her lips gently.

"I heard my mother telling you all about it." The vampire shifted his weight and smirked.

"Eavesdropping?" She didn't reply. She looked...guilty. It was an emotion that made her look incredibly innocent.

_Incredibly alluring._

"Why are you here?"

The question caught him off guard. She lifted her eyes to look at him, and they were glistening with tears.

"For you."


End file.
